The training bay at FAWS wasn't built for showmanship. It was a square of padded flooring, ringed with scaffolding and dim lights that buzzed faintly, a place where soldiers could sweat, bleed, and harden themselves between deployments. Usually, Sirius Blake kept to the sidelines, tinkering with weapons or throwing in jokes to break the tension. But now, standing barefoot on the mat, ribs tense and fists raised, there was no hiding. Soldiers leaned over the railing, their voices a rolling chorus of mockery and encouragement.
"Renegade in the ring!" someone shouted, laughter spilling through the crowd.
"Bet he fights with a wrench!" another barked, slapping a hand against the steel railing.
Sirius rolled his shoulders, feigning nonchalance. "Don't tempt me. A wrench's got reach. Might patent that next."
His opponent was Jinx Alvarez of the Rapid Assault Unit. She was lean, coiled like a spring, her stance sharp with a predator's grace. Her smirk was confident, predatory, the kind of look a Hivebug never saw until it was too late. "You sure about this, Blake? Don't want you running to your toys when I knock you flat."
Sirius forced a grin, though his stomach twisted. "Come on, Jinx. How bad can it be?"
From the edge of the ring, Stone Varga rumbled, voice like gravel. "Bad enough you'll learn something, Renegade. Don't blink."
A bell clanged, echoing across the bay.
Jinx moved first. She was on him before Sirius even registered it, a blur of speed and precision. He reacted a heartbeat late, clumsy, barely managing to block her strike with his forearm. Pain shot through his arm, jarring and sharp.
"Focus!" Stone barked.
Sirius swung back on instinct, sloppy but desperate. Jinx dodged, spun low, and swept his legs clean. He hit the mat with a hard thud, the air torn from his lungs. The crowd roared with laughter.
Sirius coughed, grimacing as he rolled onto an elbow. "That—ow—that was just warming up."
"On your feet," Jinx smirked. "You've got more in you."
The second round was worse. Jinx feinted left, struck right, and Sirius never saw it coming. Her elbow drove into his ribs with punishing force. White-hot pain exploded through his side. He crumpled, gasping, clutching his chest as the bay fell silent.
Whisper Kade was already moving, her medic's kit clattering as she pushed through the crowd. "Move aside. Out of the way." She knelt, hands checking Sirius' side, eyes sharp. "Bruised. Maybe cracked. Idiot." She pressed a cold patch against his ribs. Sirius hissed at the contact.
"I'm fine," he wheezed. "Just—ow—fine."
Whisper's glare could have cut steel. "Fine is when you're not breathing like a broken exhaust vent. Stay down."
Stone crouched close, his expression thunderous. "Renegade, hesitation gets you killed. If she were a Hivebug, you'd be shredded already."
Sirius forced a crooked smile through the pain. "Guess I'd better stop hesitating, huh?"
From the mech bay, Bear Ivanov's voice rumbled through the comms feed. "Blake, you're a genius with wires and barrels, but you can't laugh your way through a Hivebug claw. Fix that body of yours before it betrays you."
Sparks Novik called from the railing, smirking. "At least he didn't short-circuit mid-round. That's progress!"
Shade, arms folded, muttered dryly, "He fights like his prototypes—loud, unpredictable, one mistake away from blowing up."
The crowd chuckled, tension fading, but Sirius only lay back, breathing shallow, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Inside his skull, ARI's voice was clear and calm.
> "Combat reflex delay: 0.8 seconds slower than required survival threshold. Projected fatality rate in direct combat: 67%."
Sirius groaned. "You really don't sugarcoat, do you?"
> "Accuracy is vital. Survival is priority."
Later, with his ribs wrapped tight by Whisper's reinforced bandages, Sirius managed a grin despite the pain. "Not bad for a first round, right?"
Jinx laughed, kneeling beside him. "You've got guts, Renegade. Just no clue how to use them. Stick to cannons until you learn."
Stone's face was harder. He crouched until Sirius had no choice but to meet his eyes. "Listen. Guts alone don't save lives. I've seen too many fall because they thought being brave was enough. You're smarter than anyone here, Blake, but one second too slow and you're gone. You want to survive? You want to keep helping us? Then you need to make your body a weapon too."
This time Sirius didn't joke. He nodded once, jaw tight. "Yeah. I get it."
That night, the workshop was silent but for the faint hum of machines. The Shatterstorm Mk I rested scarred against the wall, Carbine X gleamed in the dim light. Sirius sat at his bench, fingers tapping against his bandaged ribs.
"ARI," he whispered. "They're right. I can't hide behind the toys forever."
> "Affirmative. Recommendation: structured conditioning and reflex training. Efficiency gap must be reduced."
Sirius smirked faintly. "Figures. Another mission. Only this time it's me."
He leaned back, pain tugging at his ribs, but his eyes burned with determination. "Alright then. Let's turn this body into a weapon."
And all the while, the Terran frontlines pushed forward. For the first time in years, infantry advances held, Hivebug swarms were repelled, and captured ground was no longer immediately lost. Carbine X rifles and turret support made soldiers more confident, bolder in their pushes. Rumors spread fast through the barracks—Renegade Blake's storm of weapons was shifting the tide.
But Sirius knew the war wasn't won by inventions alone. It demanded bodies as sharp as steel and minds as unyielding as his. The soldiers fought. The Terrans clawed ground back inch by inch. And now, Sirius Blake prepared to fight in his own way, laughing through pain and swearing he wouldn't be left behind.